Well the steel in his strings nCuts into his fingers nAnd the lines that are left nHe knows so well nnAnd the words that he screams nSift through the smoke and sweat nWhile his wandering mind nTries to tell... nnTo tell him he's uninspired nIn some weary, absent way nTo tell him he's simply tired... nnThen the sound rolls in nAnd lifts him up and in to the place he should've been nThen the sound rolls in, and lifts him up and in nnAnd when all has been drained nHe wrestles with the feeling nOf an unfelt refrain that he knew too well nnAnd the words that he hears, nBecause they compliment nAre the words that he fears, nBecause they tell... nnThey tell him he's uninspired nIn some weary absent way nThey tell him he's simply hired here. nnThen the sound rolls in. nAnd lifts him up and in to the place he should've been nThen the sound rolls in...